LITMIR.BIZ

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it might be advantageous to do so when the recitation is complete.”

      “Are you implying that I might lose such a challenge?”

      Lord Evarrim did not reply.

      Kaylin couldn’t tell whether or not Evarrim’s comment was a not-so-subtle goad, but she knew Severn was in no shape to accept such a challenge. He could be in perfect health, and it would still be dicey—enough that Kaylin would bet real money against him.

      She ate. The food might have been sawdust. She didn’t touch the wine, but remembered enough to use the right utensils. The entire meal reminded her of the entrance exam she had undergone in order to join the Hawks as more than their official mascot. It was worse because she’d wanted to be a Hawk so badly. Passing this exam, on the other hand? The only possible work advantage was that it might prove she was fit for the delicate investigations that involved Barrani—and that meant more time with Barrani.

      She was enormously grateful when the ordeal ended. Lord Tanniase had not challenged Severn to a duel. She had been asked no more questions about the High Court, the High Halls, or her unenviable lifespan. She had not, that she was aware of, embarrassed her race or her profession.

      But when the Lord of the West March rose, signaling an end to dinner, the Warden rose, as well.

      “Lord Kaylin,” he said, bowing.

      She froze. She was accustomed to being the butt of several jokes; she was even accustomed to condescension. Respect, when it was offered, made her ill at ease; she was certain some game was being played, and she didn’t want to become a game piece on whatever board the Barrani had chosen.

      But she returned the bow with a nod, stiffening her knees as she remembered the protocols of theoretical equals. “Lord Barian.”

      “I would converse with you about matters concerning the West March,” he said. “If your time is not already spoken for, and you are willing to do so, I extend the hospitality of my humble halls for the evening.”

      She glanced automatically at the Lord of the West March; his eyes were a cautious blue, but not an angry one. He offered her no guidance. She wanted to say no; she’d had enough testing for one evening. But she wanted to offer no offense, either—not by accident. His intervention had prevented the dinner from descending into mortal-baiting; she owed him.

      He noted her hesitation; it wasn’t brief.

      “I extend my offer of hospitality to Lord Severn; he is, if I am a judge of mortal character, your man.”

      “I would be honored,” she said.

      He nodded. It became instantly clear to whom; four men rose and joined him. As did his mother.

      Will you at least tell me her name?

      Amusement. She is Avonelle.

      Kaylin wondered why all Barrani names sounded so similar. Is she Lord Avonelle?

      She is not a Lord of the High Court, as her questions tonight made clear.

      Will I seem too obsequious if I call her Lord Avonelle?

      No. You have chosen to grace her son with a title that you are not, by etiquette, required to use; extending the same courtesy to his mother would not seem obsequious.

      She caught the hidden currents behind that thought and grimaced. Even for the Lord of the West March, fawning respect from mortals was not considered pandering; it was considered inevitable. The Barrani Hawks didn’t expect it. But with the single exception of Teela, none of them had a place in the High Court.

      Tanniase?

      He is a Lord. I understand that you absent yourself from both the Court and its unfortunate politics, but you must learn who comprises that Court. It is relevant, even in the West March. It cannot be irrelevant when the High Halls stand at the heart of your city.

      She made a mental note to ask Teela for this information when she had the leisure time to memorize it. She was unlikely to forget Tanniase, however.

      Chapter 6

      Before she departed for the Warden’s so-called humble halls, she excused herself. She didn’t offer to change, since she was afraid to insult the dress; she did want to let her hair down—literally—because it was so tightly bound it made her scalp hurt.

      Severn also excused himself to change; he wasn’t wearing clothing that was demonstrably more valuable to everyone present than he himself was. This left Teela serving as her unofficial escort.

      “I guess they didn’t call a council meeting,” Kaylin said as Teela led her to the rooms she’d have had a hard time finding.

      “As you surmise. I consider the Warden’s offer of hospitality to be at least as dangerous, but there was no politic way to refuse his offer. I’m surprised you realized that.”

      “I wasn’t worried about being politic,” Kaylin replied. “He stuck up for me; I owed him one.”

      “I have warned you in the past about naïveté and optimism, haven’t I?”

      “Every other day. And no, that’s not an exaggeration. Do you think the Warden is playing some kind of game?”

      “Yes. It may not be a game of which you will disapprove. Do not needlessly antagonize him.”

      “Or his mother?”

      “I fear it is late for that. Avonelle is the Guardian of the green; she has held that title for centuries. The Warden, in theory, has more power, but theory is always tenuous. Understand that Lord Barian was not her only son; he is merely the only one to survive.”

      “Did the rest fail the test of name?”

      “No. She lost one son in the last war; the other made the journey to the High Halls and failed to return. Barrani mothers are not mortal mothers; mortals feel that immortality, such as it is, is the continuance of their line. The Barrani do not age; we assume that we will exist for all of eternity. We might therefore bear a child every few centuries, if we so choose.”

      “I saw her at the table, Teela. I know what I saw.”

      “Yes. It is rumored—and it is only rumor—that she had ambitions for her youngest son; it was he who chose to take the test of name. His brother has not made the same choice; he is the last of her sons. His line is the line of Wardens, through his mother; if he is lost in the same way, it spells an end to the Wardens of her blood unless she bears another son.”

      “Is it like the position of Consort?”

      “No. But there are some similarities.”

      “Can anyone become Lord of the West March?”

      “It is a hereditary title—but yes; the green does not privilege the politics of either Court. The Lord rules, but the Warden serves. It is therefore the position of Warden that the green husbands.”

      “Teela—what is the green?”

      Teela smiled. “I do not know. Perhaps if I knew, I would understand why I alone, of the twelve gathered here, was spared.” She hesitated, and then added, “Avonelle was my mother’s sister.”

      * * *

      The Consort had not wakened; nor had she moved in her sleep. She was a color that Kaylin associated with death. “Is she—is she breathing?” she asked.

      Lord Lirienne inclined his head, his expression grave.

      “Should I try to wake her?”

      “I am not my sister.” It was stated as if it were a reply.

      Kaylin understood that this man was the Lord of the West March; that he had power and rank; that he was immortal. But she couldn’t find the fear that would have forced her to be cautious. “Can I pretend I asked that question again?” She spoke Elantran.

      He

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